iAM a Professional
by IronishRose
Summary: Tragedy Strikes close to Home for Sam. When Freddie and Carly aren't around to help, will Sam find what she needs w/ a woman with a similar story. Rating may go up...and sorry the summary sucks.
1. All Alone

**A/N: First off, I know this story might piss a couple people off, not because it sucks (it may, but I hope not) but b/c I know there are many people waiting on the next chapter to my other story/ies.**

**I am finally starting to find a semi regular rhythm at my two jobs, and social life, so (and I know I keep saying this) hopefully I can start updating more regularly again.**

**Anyway, here is an idea that has been rattling around in my head for a while. Hopefully it is as good as I imagine it.**

iAm A Professional: Chapter 1: All Alone

Sam is used to police in her neighborhood. The trailer park is not a place known for it's adherence to the letter of the law. But, something today didn't feel right. As she approached her trailer that she shared with her mother and sister- when she was home from her prestigious private school- the feeling only got worse. The police tape covering the front door told her that all was not right in the Puckett household.

Wanting to avoid any questions until she could figure out exactly what was going on; Sam pulled her hood up, and ducked down into her hoodie, avoiding eye contact with any of the myriad of officers gathered outside her front door. Normally, in this situation Sam would immediately head to Carly's, but she and Spencer were visiting Granddad in Yakima. Freddie was a second, albeit far second, choice, but he was at a fencing tournament in Fresno. With no apparent options open Sam just walked down the block, continuing to avoid any sort of contact with the police.

She walked to the end of the court, and walked up the front steps to the trailer that sat there. Silently praying that the woman was home, she knocked softly. Sam had only seen the small-ish brunette a handful of times since she had moved in about a month before.

"Please let me in." Sam begs quietly, as she hears a rustling behind the door. A myriad of clinks and squeaks are heard, before the door cracks. There is only enough room for the young brunette to poke her head out and look behind the petite blond to eye the gathered police down the block. The door creaks as it slowly opens wider, and the woman inside motions with her eyes for Sam to come in.

After Sam has made it in, the silent woman pins and sets what seems an endless number of locks, and pins arranged on the edge of the door. Sam ponders the multitude of locks, but is too caught up in possibilities lying within her childhood home to contemplate too long. Sam is brought out of her reverie by the small voice of the previously silent brunette standing in front of her.

"Who are you?" the woman startles Sam, giving her a look with a raised eyebrow.

"The name is Samantha, but call me Sam, please." In any other circumstances saying the word 'please' would surely kill Sam, but these were very unique circumstances. The oddity of the situation continues to expand as Sam continues. "Thank you. Can I ask your name, ma'am?"

"You can. It's Mathilda." The older woman says with a smirk. Sam starts to comment on the strange name, but decides against it. "You seem to be in a bit of trouble, Sam."

"You could say that. Me and cops don't get along." Sam motions to the small couch behind her, hoping Mathilda will understand her question, if she can sit down. Mathilda nods and motions for Sam to sit. Sam takes the moment to finally really look at the woman in front of her.

She's not much taller than Sam, maybe an inch, with brunette hair cropped close to the neck. The woman looks fit, and only a few years older than Sam, maybe 24, no more. Sam continues, "I didn't want to complicate the crime scene until I knew what was going on."

"I can appreciate that. But, why me?"

"You were the only option I had. Usually I would head to my friend Carly's, but she is outta town until next week. I don't really get along with a lot of the people in this neighborhood. Plus, it seemed the least suspicious to just walk to the end of the block, instead of looking for a trailer with its lights on."

"And what if I hadn't been home?" Mathilda looks down at the petite blond sitting on her threadbare couch.

"Well, I would have popped the locks, but that was before I knew the crazy amount of locks you had." A small laugh escapes Sam's lips.

"Well, it was smart thinking, just walking down the block, acting like you didn't know anything. You seem a natural at assuaging guilt."

"I've had a lot of practice." Sam chuckles at her understatement.

"I thought I saw you go in the house before the cops showed up though?" Mathilda sits down next to Sam turning towards her.

"That's Melanie, my identical twin sister. She's home for the summer form a fancy boarding school." Sam's eyes flash in a subtle hint that she wasn't completely happy with Melanie being home.

"Oh, ok, that explains it." Mathilda gets a look of worry on her face, before continuing. "You need to remain calm, when I tell you this next part."

Sam laughs at the serious expression on Mathilda's face, but stops when she realizes she isn't joking. "What is it, just tell me."

"I saw Melanie go in a few minutes before someone pulled up to the house. I was walking home from the grocery."

"So?"

"Well, something didn't seem right, so I kept a watch from the peephole. The police showed up about 15 minutes later."

"And? What are you getting at?"

"No one left the house before the cops showed up."

Sam looks confused for a moment, before the pit in her stomach becomes much heavier. Sam dashes across the room, to peer out of the peephole. Paramedics have pulled up to the house. "Dammit, I can't see anything." Sam moves to a front window for a better view.

As she gets to the window she can see the paramedics exiting the trailer through the front door. They are wheeling out two gurneys. Sam can vaguely make out the shape of the sealed black bags that sit atop both gurneys.

The young blond jumps at the door, and starts to frantically undo all of the locks, before Mathilda calmly walks over and lays her hand over Sam's. Sam tries to turn on the Brunette and starts to strike out at her, before the reality of what she saw hits her fully.

Sam collapses to the floor.

**What do you think so far? Should I continue this story? And like I said, I promise to try to update my other stories soon.**


	2. Come Together

**Here is the next chapter of iAm A Professional. I hope it isn't too filler-ish, I need to establish some stuff.**

Carly Shay steps out of the passenger side of a beat up Ford Pinto. She walks around to the trunk, and bangs, signaling, for her brother to pop it. There is an anxious air about the petite brunette, she is worried. She hasn't heard from her best friend in 2 weeks.

"Spencer, " she says ,leaning around the car, to look at her brother as he gets out of the driver's side, " as soon as we get the bags, I am getting Freddie. Then, you are driving us to Sam's."

"That sounds like a sure thing, kiddo." Spencer has to admit, he is a little worried about Sam as well, since she is like a second little sister to him. "I've got a better idea, though. Call Freddie, now, he can help with the bags. And that way you guys can catch up on the happenings, and we can all get to Sam's that much quicker." Carly gives her brother an odd look, slightly surprised by his logical and responsible suggestion. _The thing with Sam must really be affecting him _She thinks to herself.

She pulls her PearPhone out, typing a quick text. A second later, her phone beeps "He'll be right down. Go ahead and start with those. "She says, motioning to the pile of bags set outside the trunk. "I'll wait down here for him, and we'll get the rest of the bags."

" Alrighty." Spencer grabs his polka-dotted suitcase off the top of the pile, and one of Carly's many bags, and starts to drag them towards the door. Carly can't resist laughing at Spencer's suitcase. It was a gift from Socko's cousin, Casey, for his last birthday. It was part of a 3 piece matching set, until 2 inexplicably caught fire, on their last night-fishing trip.

As Spencer nears the door, Freddie comes bounding down the stairs. "Hola mujer y amigo!"

"Hey, Freddo, Carly's got the rest of the bags, if you wanna help her with those." He motions, with a slight look of disgust at the remaining bags, 9 full size suitcases, from his sister.

"Hey, we were there for a full month. You didn't want me to have to resort to wearing the same outfit twice, did you?" She giggles.

Freddie grabs what he can, and follows Spencer and Carly up the short staircase, to the door of the Bushwell Plaza.

…

They exit the elevator inside of the Shay apartment. "It's a good thing the private elevator stops in your place. Dragging these bags up the stairs would have sucked." Freddie exclaims, as he plops on the couch, exhausted from hauling Carly's entire wardrobe.

"Would have?" Spencer smirks at the dark-haired boy sprawled on his couch.

Carly interrupts before anyone can say anything else about her multitude of baggage. 'Aaaaaaaaaaaaanyway. We need to get to Sam's. She never disappears this long with out telling somebody. There was no answer at the house, either. Her mom , and Melanie aren't answering either."

You're right, let's go." The two guys join Carly as she runs to the door, grabbing her jacket along the way.

**The Puckett's (A.K.A 'The Crime Scene')**

"What is with all the police tape?" Carly looks around, obviously shaken by the scene lying out in front of her.

The trailer that used to be the humble abode of Sam, Melanie, and Terri Puckett now lies in shambles and total disarray. The police tape that covered every opening is ripped, and blowing ominously in the wind. Weeds have grown out and over, clinging to the sides of the building.

"What is going on here?" Freddie looks around; searching for any clue he can see.

Unknown to the two teens, and older brother, they are being watched intently by the very young blond they are searching for, and her new 'teacher'.

**Inside Mathilda's**

"Why can't I at least go and tell them I'm ok." Sam is torn by the expressions she can see on her best friends' faces, as they search for any clue to her whereabouts.

"You don't yet know who exactly killed your family. If you want any chance to find, and exact your revenge on, them, it is better the world think you died there as well." The older brunette looks over Sam's shoulder at the 3 figures down the street.

Sam turns to face her. "That makes sense. I just hate to see Carly or Spencer hurting. Or even the nub, Freddie." She seems to add the last part as an afterthought.

Mathilda smiles to herself at Sam's obvious attempt at covering her worry for the brunette boy. "Ok, you know they are safe. We need to get back to your 'lessons'." She motions for Sam to sit at the coffee table in the living room.

"Yes, mother." Sam tries to hide it, but she has grown quite fond of the older brunette in the two weeks she has been studying under her. Mathilda too has grown fond of this petite blond who stumbled into her life. Reminding her too much of herself only a few short years ago.

As Sam takes her place, Mathilda retrieves a case from the kitchen counter.

"We are going to practice disassembly, and reassembly." She walks towards Sam, "Oh, and we will be using the blindfold this time." Sam continues to stare straight ahead as Mathilda walks behind her, pulls a red handkerchief out of her back pocket. She continues to sit stoically, and the older woman tightens the cloth, hiding her intense blue eyes. Mathilda leans over Sam, and places the case on the table in front of her.

Sam unclasps the safety locks and opens the case. Running her fingers over the small caliber handgun she feels for every nook, cranny, and divot. She pulls the piece out of its cradle, gingerly at first. She soon is spinning it, testing for balance, and any discrepancies in weight distribution.

"Loaded?" Her eyebrows rise slightly, and a smile crosses her lips.

"Yes, Sam. You never know what the situation will be, when you must act. You must be prepared for any chance happenstance."

Sam goes to work with a fervor usually reserved for Pork products. She first pulls the clip from the hilt, and pulls the breach to release the chambered round. The bullet flies out and lands with a '_tink_' on the tabletop. She continues pulling each piece off one at a time. Keeping the bulk of the gun in her left hand, she pulls each piece with grace, with her right. Each piece she gets, she brings up to her lips, gently blows on it, and sets it down neatly on the table in front of her. After only 34 seconds, the gun is in as many pieces, laid neatly and organized on the coffee table.

"Good job, Samantha." Mathilda smiles at how quickly Sam has picked up this advanced, and but ultimately necessary part of "Cleaning".

"Now," She starts, with a serious tone. She walks around the front of the table and grabs a random piece and puts it in her pocket. She then grabs a few more pieces, and rearranges them. The neat rows have become a pile of mismatched parts, and a disorganized mess.

"Put it back together."

**Meanwhile, at the offices of the Seattle Police Department**

"Lieutenant Harris, can I talk to you about something?" The rotund, but fit officer knocks lightly on the door frame of the open office door, of his lieutenant. Carl is still unsure around his new superior, having only known him the past month. Lt. Harris was transferred to the Seattle PD, from New York.

"Can it wait, Officer…?" He looks up at the man's badge, catching the name he continues, "Carl Winslow. I am really swamped with all of these cold cases. If you don't recall that is why I got transferred here in the first place." The man with spiky blonde hair looks back down at the piles of paperwork on his desk, doing his best to ignore this new annoyance.

"Well, it is kind of related to that, actually. You remember that double homicide we had a couple weeks back? No one has touched the case since the primary investigation, the day of the shooting."

"And…." He looks back up from his paperwork, wishing this fat man would just disappear. "As I said, there are hundreds of cold cases sitting on my desk right now, "He motions to the pile. "A drug deal gone badly does not interest me. It's too bad the kid had top get caught in the crossfire, but that is how it works."

"That may be how it worked in New York, but this is Seattle, and I knew that kid. Her name was Samantha Puckett, and she was something of a local celebrity." Carl remembers the first time he met Sam, as well as her two friends, Freddie and Carly. It wasn't their best way to meet, after all his name was Carl, and they inadvertently had told people to "Pee on Carl". But he had started to forgive the mistake. And after how he had treated them, after the Petographers trashed their studio, he at least owed it to the girl to find whoever killed her.

**So, what do you think so far. **

**Did Sam's mom and sister really get killed because of drugs, or is something deeper, and more sinister afoot?**

**Find out, maybe, next time**

**R&R please and Thank you.**


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